


Dr. Hale

by cooljacket



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooljacket/pseuds/cooljacket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A handsome sex ed. teacher substitutes for Stiles' biology class, but a risky decision puts his job at the mercy of his least favorite student. Can Stiles extort enough extra credit from him to pass the semester before the week is up? Or will Dr. Hale's rugged good looks literally blind him before that happens?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comeuppance

The tiny, white-haired woman who taught Stiles’ biology class had been replaced by a bearded man no one had seen before. When the school bell chimed, he gruffly announced, “Good morning. I’m your substitute for today, Dr. Hale. In accordance with new state laws, I am visiting various science classes throughout the school to educate you all about contraception.”

Stiles couldn’t give two shits about contraception, but he attended closely to how the shoulders of Dr. Hale’s shirt stretched when he etched the acronym “STD” onto the blackboard in big, sharp letters.

“You,” said Dr. Hale, nodding to Stiles in the front row. “Do you know what an STD is?”

Stiles gulped. “A studly… tan… doctor?” he answered, making a few of his classmates burst into laughter. Even Dr. Hale suppressed a grin before shaking his head guiltily.

“An interesting interpretation, but as I’m sure most of you know, an STD is a sexually transmitted disease. If it’s OK, I’d like to skip over common knowledge as your school has allotted me just this hour to speak with you. Now...” He gave the quickest lecture possible about transmission and basic symptoms for the kids who really didn’t know, and Stiles watched as the handsome doctor wrote words like “chlamydia” and “syphilis” on the blackboard. When he wrapped up, his smart, green eyes quickly found Stiles again.

“You. Studly tan doctor kid. What was your name?”

“Uh, Stiles,” he coughed.

“Uhstiles,” echoed Dr. Hale. “You’re going to be my designated teaching assistant today. And don’t worry, your duties don’t include defining acronyms.” A cardboard box sat in the burgundy swivel chair behind the desk. From it, Dr. Hale produced a banana bunch and a Tupperware tub full of condoms. “I need you distribute these. There won’t be enough for everyone, so just try to make sure every other person gets one. And those of you without one will look on with your neighbors.”

Snickers came from the class. Stiles defiantly rose to take the bananas and the condoms and doled them out with his chin up.

“Bet this is the first time you’ve touched one of these,” sneered Jackson.

“I could say the same for you, dickhead,” hissed Stiles, flinging a condom package at Jackson’s forehead.

He saved a banana and condom for himself, then returned the empty plastic tub to the front desk. That was when Dr. Hale realized his oversight: he had nothing left to demonstrate with.

“TA Stiles,” he said, scratching his head. “You seemed to have forgotten to give materials to the most important person in the room. But that’s OK. We’ll just use your banana for the demonstration.”

More snickers. Geez, would the embarrassment never end? Stiles handed off his banana and condom package to Dr. Hale, surprised when he was stopped from returning to his seat.

“Wait. You’re going to help me with the demonstration,” said Dr. Hale.

“What? That wasn’t part of the deal!” argued Stiles.

“It’s part of the job description. You’re my teaching assistant, and anyway you’ll learn more from doing than from watching.”

“But it’s not like I’m a real teaching assistant.”

“Not with that attitude,” agreed Dr. Hale.

Defeated, Stiles took his place beside the doctor. “It’ll be fine,” Dr. Hale encouraged. “It’s just a condom. Nothing to be afraid of. And if you start to mess up I’ll coach you.”

“S’not messing up I’m worried about. I just don’t wanna have to do this in front of the class,” said Stiles.

“There’s a lot to be gleaned from putting on a condom in front of a bunch of people. Like I said, you’ll learn more from doing.”

Honestly, what skills could be learned from putting on a condom in front of a crowd that were useful outside of orgies? Not to mention Stiles found it difficult enough to get one sexual partner, let alone a few. He was officially seething now.

“Remember: the only way to prevent STDs is through using protection and avoiding risky activities. And abstinence, but I’m not teaching that because I’m sure you all would rather put condoms on fruit. Now—“

A loud snap came from the back row of desks as a frizzy-haired girl impaled her condom on the tab of her banana. “Uh, my condom broke,” she whimpered, making those around her explode with laughter.

Dr. Hale just smiled sympathetically and tossed her the one he was holding. “Here, Stiles is giving you his. And while I appreciate your enthusiasm, please wait for me to finish talking before you start.”

But now that he had given his last condom away, he was once again strapped for materials. He checked the cardboard box for any spares that might have escaped the plastic tub, but there was nothing there, so in a flash of resourcefulness and frustration, he did the unthinkable. Pretending to search the box, he surreptitiously removed the condom he carried in his wallet.

“Perfect. Now we can get the demonstration started,” he exclaimed. This new condom’s flashy, gold packaging was starkly different from the ones the students had, but he was sure none of them would be meticulous enough to notice.

Except Stiles did. “What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s the condom you’ll use to demonstrate for—“

“No, I mean why is this one different.” He squinted at letters emblazoned on the packaging. “Extra-large? How’s this gonna fit on the banana?”

“It will fit fine,” he toned sternly. “Which brings up an important point: condoms come in different sizes…”

As Dr. Hale sermonized another bullshit lecture, Stiles realized the condom he’d been given had come from a different place than the plain, blue ones his classmates had. And on such short notice, that place could have been nowhere but Dr. Hale himself. Heat spilled into his cheeks when he grasped that, if not for this demonstration, Dr. Hale might have worn this condom. And it was extra-large.

“… TA Stiles? Are you OK?” asked Dr. Hale, finishing his lecture.

“I—“ He stopped short. Seeing everyone’s eyes on him, he knew he couldn’t expose the secret right now. Dr. Hale would undoubtedly be fired for exposing kids to his personal stash of rubbers, and Stiles would become a laughingstock by association. More of a laughingstock, at least. “Yeah. I’m cool. Cool as a cucumber, which is another food you can put condoms on. Anyway…”

Hands trembling, he tore into the package and removed its contents: a slick, plastic ring. Dr. Hale held the banana steady as Stiles slipped the ring onto the banana’s tip and began rolling it down.

“Watch closely, everyone,” instructed Dr. Hale. “This is the correct way to put on a condom. When you think you have the gist of it, try it yourself and show me the results. We’re nearly out of time.”

Correct way? A great deal of excess rubber cleaved to the base, just above Dr. Hale’s hairy knuckles, and the head was floppy with free space. But Stiles had gotten the concept of pinching the tip and rolling down the rest right, at least.

One by one, his classmates lifted their own condom-covered bananas into the air for Dr. Hale to judge. Then the school bell chimed a second time, signaling the end of class. Everyone packed up and filed out, discarding their bananas into the bin on the way out.

“If any of you found this lesson too short—which you definitely should have—visit me in the nurse’s station. I will be there all week to answer any sex- or contraceptive-related questions you have,” bellowed Dr. Hale. “It should be entirely irrelevant, but visiting me will also earn you extra credit for the class I substituted for. And more visits mean more extra credit.”

Stiles made sure to linger behind his classmates, and when the room was empty of everyone but Dr. Hale and himself, he admitted, “That was kind of shitty what you did. Making me do that in front of the class.”

Dr. Hale shrugged, the shoulder panels of his shirt groaning. “You’re right, it was pretty shitty.”

“So I guess you don’t believe in comeuppance? Things coming back around to bite you in the ass?”

Dr. Hale sized Stiles up, which honestly made Stiles shiver. “Actually I do believe in that,” he clarified. “I believe that what you did—standing up in front of the class even though you were afraid to—will pay off someday. And when it does, I think that fulfills my job as a mentor.”

“But you’re not a mentor,” Stiles retorted. “You’re like a doctor or somethin’, so why are you teaching a class?”

“Because no one currently working at this school was qualified to teach sex education,” he answered, collecting his cardboard box with the plastic tub inside. “If my presence bothers you, don’t worry. I only borrowed your class for the day, and I’m only in the school until the end of this week. However, I have a feeling I won’t be seeing you in my office.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Stiles corrected.

Dr. Hale raised his bushy eyebrows over his glasses. “Oh?”

“I might have a few questions.” He shrugged. “After all, the lesson today left me a little… confused.”

“Confused,” Dr. Hale echoed. Could Stiles mean…? No. It was an inconsequentially small detail. And now all the evidence was in the bin, beneath a heap of bananas. “Well,” he continued, “then I look forward to clearing up anything that wasn’t clear.”

“Me, too, doc,” he quipped. “Be seeing you.” Then he hurried to his next class as the school bell chimed a third time.


	2. Virginus erectus

The next day Stiles skipped biology to visit the nurse’s office, because if anything would save his grade, it was a tall doctor with a beard. Not studying.

Dr. Hale was relaxed into a leather swivel chair with the top buttons of his shirt unfastened and his hair pushed lazily back. Scared that he had walked in at a bad time, Stiles was about to leave when Dr. Hale acknowledged him.

“If it isn’t the last person I expected to see here,” he remarked.

Last person? “Yeah, right. I told you yesterday that I would be coming,” retorted Stiles. “Although you probably had your stethoscope screwed on too tight to hear me.”

Dr. Hale shrugged. “Forgive me for doubting you, but a lot of students said they had questions for me, but so far the only question I’ve answered is if I can write prescriptions.” He shook his head. “I can’t. Get your Ritalin somewhere else.”

“Thanks, but I’m already covered on concentration meds,” Stiles countered. “I was actually here to talk to you, if you can believe that.”

“And here I was beginning to think your school was paying me just to keep this chair warm. Have a seat.”

As Dr. Hale got up to shut the door, he motioned for Stiles to sit and explained that everything said would be confidential. But this didn’t make Stiles feel any safer about now being shut into a room with a handsome doctor, about to discuss sex.

“So.” Rather than returning to his leather chair, Dr. Hale rested his weight on the front of the desk, arms crossed. “What can I clarify for you?”

Stiles spat out the first sex-related topic that came to mind: “Circumcision.”

“Circumcision,” echoed Dr. Hale, nodding thoughtfully. “A good subject, but I’m afraid my lecture on foreskin is long enough to fill a class period, and I don’t want to keep you. So try to be a little more specific.”

Considering he already knew the history of circumcision from writing that economics essay, Stiles was a little relieved to have dodged an hour-long review. But this also made it hard to ask questions like he didn’t know the answers, and with Dr. Hale’s piercing eyes on him, he fumbled.

“Well, _specifically_ , I was curious how you would say that the advent circumcision has, uh, impacted the community… and your life, as a whole.” Complete train wreck.

“You’re wondering how circumcision has changed the community and my life?” Dr. Hale clarified, head visibly swimming. He had to clean his glasses after that doozy of a question. “Well, many historians believe that circumcision started out as way to mark captured enemy slaves. The practice then became a rite of passage in certain religions, and today it’s mostly used as a way to stymie infections. Personally, I think it’s as much of a torture method as it was from the beginning, since good personal hygiene is just as effective as amputating that piece of skin. And how has it affected _my_ life?” He chuckled. “If you couldn’t guess from the way I’m talking, circumcision fortunately hasn’t affected me at all, other than having to learn all those facts for my classes.”

Stiles turned red. Circumcision hadn’t affected Dr. Hale’s life? It was a breadcrumb, just like the condom in the class presentation was, just like the awkward bunching of fabric in Dr. Hales’ trousers (which wasn’t actually a bunching of fabric) was. And all of them were laying down a path to what Dr. Hale’s cock might actually look like, and Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s just a personal opinion,” Dr. Hale continued, obviously trying to cover his tracks if he had unwittingly insulted Stiles. “People who are circumcised are really no different from—“

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?!” piped Stiles. “Admit it. Ever since you singled me out as your teaching assistant on day one, you’ve been trying to embarrass me as much as possible.”

Dr. Hale lifted a fuzzy eyebrow. “Again. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I’m talking about this.” He revealed the golden condom wrapper that had been crumpled up in his pocket. “Look familiar? It’s yours. You were trying to use it to embarrass me during the presentation.”

Dr. Hale puzzled his hand on his beard, trying to hide his alarm. “Why did you keep that?”

“To rub it in your face.” He decided that literally rubbing the wrapper in Dr. Hale’s face would not be a good idea, so he continued, “I don’t think the principal would respond very well to hearing that you handed out one of your own, possibly-used rubbers to a student.”

“Possibly-used?” Dr. Hale scoffed. “You opened the package yourself!”

“The principal doesn’t know that,” Stiles countered. “I can give him a very convincing anecdote about how I thought yogurt was part of the lesson. Now. Unless you want this getting to your higher-ups, you’re going to give me some of that extra credit you were advertising yesterday.”

Dr. Hale barked a laugh. “I remember saying that you got extra credit just by visiting me. Blackmailing me is completely uncalled for.”

“Yeah, but this way I can visit you even when I don’t have questions to ask,” reasoned Stiles.

“Couldn’t you just make up questions, then? That sounds easier and much less sinister.”

He had nearly blacked out when Dr. Hale dropped the Uncircumcised Bomb, so no. He couldn’t. “I’m a bad conversationalist,” he answered.

Dr. Hale hummed. Supported his hands behind himself on the desk, looked at the floor, appearing to think this over. But then he reached out suddenly to snatch the wrapper from Stiles’ hand. He was very quick, but not quick enough as Stiles’ hand shut into a fist.

“Fine,” he growled. “The amount of extra credit I can give won’t nearly boost your grade from a C to an A, but if you think you need it that badly, I’ll give it to you for doing nothing. Just keep that wrapper to yourself.” He picked up the cardboard box behind his desk and ushered Stiles from the room in a way that seemed like he was kicking him out, but then he locked the door behind them both. “I have a class to teach now. You’ll have to cash in your extortion methods later.”

“That’s fine,” responded Stiles. “I’ve got all day.”

Well, not really. When Dr. Hale strode off toward his class, Stiles turned on a heel to race to economics. Unfortunately he couldn’t squeeze Coach Finstock for extra credit like Dr. Hale, so he had to pay attention here. But when the school bell released him into his free period, he returned to the nurse’s office where all he needed was to flash some gold packaging, and found that Dr. Hale had already beaten him there.

He was dabbing a stain on his shirt with a wet rag, looking dismal. “You again,” he grumbled. “As if this day couldn’t get worse. Don’t you have another teacher to terrorize right now?”

Stiles shook his head. “Free period. What’s that on your shirt?”

“A reason not to teach the freshmen about lubricant,” he answered. “They think squeezing the sachets until they pop is an appropriate way to open them.”

“Isn’t it?” Stiles quipped, getting a death glare from Dr. Hale in return. “It looks like you’re just spreading it around. My dad’s gotten enough grease stains on his shirts for me to know a water-repellant when I see one.”

“Well, it’s silicone-based,” responded Dr. Hale. “Repelling water is kind of the point.”

“Then why are you using a rag?” Stiles huffed. “Here.” He picked the rag from Dr. Hale’s hand and asked, “Got any chalk? Or baby powder? You need to dry up the stain before you try to wash it.”

“I have condoms and more lube,” answered Dr. Hale. “But I’m afraid to give you either since you might try to blackmail me.”

Stiles snorted. “C’mon. That was like one time.”

“And it’s still happening,” retorted Dr. Hale. He stepped back, though there wasn’t much room to spare behind his desk, and produced a gym bag from underneath the desk. “I’ll just change since I’m not teaching anymore classes today. Wash the thing when I get home.” He unbuttoned the shirt halfway, enough to show that his beard connected to some thick chest hair. “Turn around,” he toned. “You’re already holding enough over my head without an added striptease. And no looking at the reflections in my degrees.”

Stiles gulped and did as he was told. He heard the shirt rustle off, and Dr. Hale rummaging through the gym bag for a new one when he suddenly stopped.

“Goddamn it. It soaked through,” he groaned. He must have picked up the wet rag because Stiles heard something scraping Dr. Hale’s skin. “This is ridiculous. I look like the main course of a Thanksgiving dinner.”

The need to see Dr. Hale’s oily torso ached in Stiles’ bones. But Dr. Hale must have sensed this because he reminded him not to turn around.

“All right. You’re free to use all 360° of your motion again,” said Dr. Hale.

Stiles turned around to see Dr. Hale in a shirt of interwoven panels of breathable fabric. Tight, sleeveless. Something hardcore gym-goers wore. And Stiles noticed that the gym bag was stuffed of similar things, like heart rate monitors and jockstraps and knee braces. Just looking at them made Stiles feel lazy, so he slumped down into the chair in front of the desk.

“Here.” Dr. Hale flung a pamphlet at him. Teen Pregnancy: It’s _Your_ Choice! “If you’re going to sit in my office, at least pretend like I’m doing my job.”

“Afraid someone’s going to walk in?” Stiles inquired.

“You haven’t given me high expectations for my visitors,” Dr. Hale answered. “I don’t get it. Some of you would rather extort extra credit from me than talk about sex. When I was in high school, sex was all I wanted to talk about.”

“Is that why you became a sex ed. teacher?” asked Stiles.

“No. I became a sex ed. teacher because I caught syphilis from the running back of the football team, which I mistook for smallpox. That was when I realized I needed to learn more about sexually transmitted diseases, and along the way I realized most other people did, too.”

“Your school had a girl as the running back?” Stiles stammered.

Dr. Hale rolled his eyes. “The running back was as much of a girl as I am.”

Another breadcrumb for the trail, this one showing that Dr. Hale might actually be interested in him. As if! He held the pregnancy pamphlet close to his face to hide his blush.

“So what did you do?” Stiles squeaked. “About the syphilis.”

“You want to know more?” Dr. Hale opened his hand to Stiles. “The rest of the story costs one condom wrapper.”

“What?! Not fair,” he objected.

“Neither is blackmail,” reminded Dr. Hale. “I’m actually offering this story at discount considering that wrapper is basically worthless. After I got over the surprise, I realized there was really no way to trace that back to me personally. And I did give a lecture on condoms having different sizes, so throwing in an extra-large one was totally justified.” Stiles looked obstinate, so Dr. Hale added, “You can still come back to my office without questions and I’ll give you extra credit for it. At this point, I think polite company is the best I can hope for.”

Stiles hesitated, but eventually turned over the condom wrapper, making Dr. Hale sigh in relief. He wasn’t sure if Stiles would actually give into that.

“Well?” Stiles chirped. “Me pay, you say.”

“Right,” he sighed. “I contracted syphilis from the running back, panicked, got a shot of penicillin and everything was fine. Then I contracted a few more STDs during my high school career—“

“A few more?!” Stiles snapped.

Dr. Hale chuckled deep from his chest. “Well, high schools are breeding grounds for STDs—which is what I’ve been trying to teach you. But, admittedly, I was also pretty promiscuous.”

Of course. The handsome doctor had been with a hundred people during high school, while Stiles was sitting here as the last member of the dying breed of teenaged virgins.

“They called me Big Dick Derek,” he continued, grinning guiltily. “Big Dick Derek, the guy who reached the spots no one else could. God, those were some times.” He noticed the blush creeping up Stiles’ forehead, above the pamphlet’s cover-up, and rolled his eyes. “Should I pretend you didn’t see the size labeled on the wrapper you just handed me?”

“A pretty generous label, if you ask me,” Stiles mumbled.

“It wasn’t,” corrected Dr. Hale.

“See!” Stiles pointed the pregnancy pamphlet at Dr. Hale accusingly. “There you go again, trying to embarrass me. I’m so freaking done with it.”

Dr. Hale raised his hands innocently. “Sorry, but I thought you wanted to know. Anyway, I’m not trying to endorse promiscuity. I made a lot of mistakes in high school, and having a lot of sexual partners was a big one. My advice is if you want to have sex, do it with someone you trust.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Stiles quipped. “I’m a virgin, and probably going to stay that way forever.”

Dr. Hale smirked. “All right, sure.”

“I’m serious.” Stiles flung the pamphlet at Dr. Hale’s forehead. Bullseye. “After I die, some archaeologist is going to dig me up a million years later and declare me a new species. _Virginus erectus_.”

Dr. Hale folded his arms behind his head and calmly said, “If I had to bet my job on which would happen first, you losing your virginity or a new species of human getting discovered in the next million years, I would choose the first one. Don’t sell yourself short, Stiles. There are probably a lot of people out there who only dream of taking your virginity, and you don’t even realize it.” He pressed his lips together, then admitted, “Now _that’s_ something that could be misconstrued in a way that gets me fired.”

The school bell chimed.

“Just gimme the extra credit and no one has to find out,” Stiles stammered, cheeks red. Then he stood up, almost turning around before even leaving the chair, and left the office for his next class. _Virginus erectus_ , indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos or a comment if you wish Dr. Hale was your sex ed. teacher! :P


	3. See you later, Stiles

Report cards were passed out on Friday in economics, and when Stiles saw his grades he immediately wanted to race down to the nurse’s office, give Dr. Hale a bone-crushing hug and exclaim, “You did it! I passed biology with a C!” But when the school bell chimed and he shoved his way downstairs through a tide of his classmates, he found that the nurse’s office was empty and locked.

“Office hours are now held in the weight room,” read the note stuck to the door, in Dr. Hale’s sharp handwriting.

Stiles wasn’t surprised. As the week progressed, Dr. Hale had started leaving his post in the nurse’s station increasingly to run errands or take lunches or pump iron in the school’s weight room. Nor could he blame Dr. Hale, considering he entertained just one visitor a day, who happened to be a filthy blackmailer.

But Stiles was sure there would be no bad blood left between them after today. He had passed biology, Dr. Hale’s contract was ending with the school he hated, so now there was nothing left to be bitter about.

The weight room greeted him with a mixture of deadly smells and grunting noises upon entering, making him feel like he had walked into a pig pen. Pinching his shirt over his nose, he followed the grunting to an open floor of exercise machinery where Dr. Hale seemed to be alone, positioned on a bench with earphones jammed into his ears, pressing a stacked bar over his chest.

“Need a spotter?” Stiles asked, but apparently not loud enough to be heard over Dr. Hale’s headphones, because he racked the bar just as Stiles attempted to lay his hands on it.

Dr. Hale sat up, his face and arms coated in a sheen of sweat that made Stiles reconsider hugging him for the extra credit. He pulled out an earphone and asked, “Why do you look like you’re trying to mug me?”

Stiles pulled the shirt off his face. “The only thing getting mugged here is my stomach of the sandwich I had for lunch.” He made a nauseated face, then shook his head. “Anyway, I’m actually here for the opposite reason. To give you something.”

He reached into his backpack but Dr. Hale stopped him.

“Unless you want it getting covered it sweat, going away presents are going to have to wait.” He pulled out the other earphone, stood, and wiped his face on the hem his shirt. Stiles tried not to stare at his abs when he did so. “Can I get cleaned up before your heartbreaking and tearful goodbye?”

Stiles snorted. “Sure.”

Dr. Hale lumbered off to the locker room, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he intended him to follow. Eventually he did, just to escape the weight room’s stench. At least in the locker room there were lingering shampoo and soap scents from the showers to deodorize the air.

Dr. Hale unlatched a locker and stuffed his phone and earphones into the gym bag wedged onto its top shelf. Stiles didn’t know what he expected to happen next, but when Dr. Hale peeled off his shirt, Stiles flung his hands up defensively.

“Whoa!” he squeaked. “What happened to the no striptease rule?”

Dr. Hale rolled his eyes. “That was when I was still your teacher. Now that my contract is up, I have no respectabilities to uphold with the school or with you. So feel free to stare all you want this time.”

He stuffed the shirt into his gym bag and reached for his mesh shorts. Stiles violently faced the opposite direction before he got an eyeful of something that would make his cheeks burn, but then he considered this might be his only chance to ever really see Dr. Hale naked. Turn or stay put? When he finally decided that he needed to see, Dr. Hale was already wrapped in a towel.

“That was unexpected,” commented Dr. Hale. “I honestly thought all those blushes I had seen throughout the week were because you had a crush on me, but you didn’t even try to peek.”

And Stiles regretted it immensely. “What can I say?” he shrugged. “I’m an old fashioned gentleman. You ever need someone to defend your honor or promenade you at a ball, I’m your man.”

Dr. Hale snorted. “Well, promenade over there so we can keep talking. I heard report cards went out today?”

Stiles followed Dr. Hale to a shower stall, where he shut himself behind the plastic curtain and flopped the towel over the curtain rod. Stiles leaned back against the wall and knocked his head against the cool tile. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. He had blown his chance.

“Yeah, they went out today,” he sighed. “And I passed biology, thanks to a certain school nurse.”

 “Doctor,” corrected Dr. Hale. “I went to medical school for that title, so you’d better use it.”

 “A certain school _doctor_ ,” amended Stiles, but that sounded kind of weird. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for helping me out, whether you wanted to or not. With the way things were going, it looked like I was gonna have to retake the class.”

 Dr. Hale hummed in acknowledgement, his deep voice reverberating on the tile. “I definitely didn’t want to, but regardless I’m glad you passed. How are things with your dad’s work?”

A few days ago, Stiles had confided to him that worries at home were a major reason for his low grades, but he had expected that Dr. Hale would simply forget that detail. Surprised, he answered, “Good… for now. It looks like he’ll be keeping his job ‘til the end of the month. Too bad you can’t fix that, too.” He laughed. “If only your extra credit could have fixed all my problems. _That_ would have fulfilled your duties as a mentor.”

“I don’t think that’s how mentoring works,” replied Dr. Hale. “Besides, you don’t have a lot of problems. What else could I have fixed other than your grades and your situation at home? Your virginity?”

Stiles barked a laugh. “Yeah, right. Isn’t your job to persuade me to keep my virginity?”

“It was,” answered Dr. Hale. “But that’s not my job anymore, remember?”

“I guess,” replied Stiles. “So, theoretically, you could fix my virginity.”

A blush crept into his cheeks from what he’d said, and was worsened from Dr. Hale not responding. He listened to the silent, judgmental pitter-patter of water inside the shower stall.

But then the curtain opened—way more than was needed just to stick out a hand, which is what Dr. Hale did. “Did I leave a scrub brush out there?”

Stiles stared, mesmerized by the shiny, wet arm. Then he realized Dr. Hale had asked him something and quickly checked the floor and the bench by the locker. “No?” he answered. “I don’t think I saw you carrying one.”

“Goddammit,” grumbled Dr. Hale. “I probably left it at home. Maybe you can help me, then.” Two-thirds of the blood in Stiles’ brain left when Dr. Hale emerged from the shower without his towel, holding a bottle of liquid soap in his hand. “Can you wash my back?”

Stiles babbled something incoherent, goggling at the beautiful, wet, naked man.

“Is that a no?” asked Dr. Hale. “Stiles, I’m asking you to step into my stall and scrub soap onto me with your bare hands. ‘No’ isn’t an acceptable answer.”

“Are you—coming onto me?” Stiles stammered.

Dr. Hale shrugged. “Probably. But the only way to be sure is to take off your clothes and step into this stall with me.”

Dr. Hale nipped back behind the curtain, leaving Stiles’ brain a puddle of mush. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, then immediately began tearing off his backpack and clothes. Everything except his underwear, which he couldn’t muster the nerve to discard.

He drew open the curtain to find Dr. Hale still there, showering like normal. Then he drew the curtain behind him, and Dr. Hale turned to face him, eyebrows raising when he saw Stiles in his boxers.

“Do you normally shower in your underwear?” he asked.

“I normally shower by myself,” Stiles responded.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. Can I go ahead and take them off for you?”

Stiles reluctantly nodded. Dr. Hale slipped them off, his last line of modesty, and they fell into the puddle around his feet. His dick sprung free. Completely, embarrassingly hard already.

Dr. Hale hummed in his deep voice. “This is what you would call an erection,” he explained. Then he wrapped his hand around it. “And if you rub it, it should feel very good.”

Stiles would have chided him for treating this like another lecture, but his body was wracked with intense jolts of pleasure that prevented the use of his mouth. Before he could stop what was happening, he doubled over and caught the wall, bolts of cum emptying into Dr. Hale’s fist.

“Oh, God,” he whimpered. He wanted to say more, but it was all he could manage.

“That was slightly quicker than I expected,” Dr. Hale commented. He let the shower wash the mess off his hand, then Stiles was squeezing his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I didn’t know it was gonna be that fast. I don’t want my first time to consist of a ten second hand job.”

Dr. Hale chuckled. “And it won’t, if you don’t want it to. But there’s something I didn’t have time to teach you called the ‘refractory period’. Basically, it’s going to be a while before you can get another erection, so you’ll have to keep yourself occupied in the meantime.”

Dr. Hale pointedly waggled his own cock, which Stiles then took into his hands and stroked. Dr. Hale wasn’t nearly as sensitive as he was, the only signs of pleasure playing for brief moments on his face. Wasn’t Stiles doing it right? He dropped to his knees where he could get a better angle and vigorously stroked the thing until it became impossibly bigger. Seeing it completely hard, it more than lived up to the hype set forth by the condom used for the demonstration.

“So. Am I allowed to blow you?” he asked, thwacking Dr. Hale’s cock in his palm like a bat.

“No,” answered Dr. Hale, making Stiles suddenly freeze. “What kind of sex ed. teacher would I be if I didn’t practice safe sex? Let me get a condom first.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Stiles snared his thighs to keep him from leaving, then carefully reached outside the curtain for his backpack, which was still in a heap with his clothes. Keeping it out of the shower spray, he unzipped it and pulled out a new box of extra-large condoms.

Dr. Hale raised a bushy eyebrow. “Did you expect this to happen?”

Digging a condom package out of the box, Stiles shook his head. “This was what I wanted to give you. Sort of a gag gift, but I guess it’ll actually come in handy.”

He tried ripping open the package with his teeth, like he had seen in porn, but only succeeded in removing a corner of foil. Then he grudgingly used his fingers to tear open the package, and roll the length of slick, orange rubber onto Dr. Hale’s cock.

“I’m guessing lube wasn’t part of the gift?” Dr. Hale asked, to which Stiles shook his head. “Then I’ll need a second.” He drew aside the plastic curtain and plodded out into the locker room, completely naked, his condom-covered cock swinging rhythmically in front of him like a metronome. Stiles couldn’t believe he had the gall to do that when, any moment, someone could walk in and see.

Dr. Hale lugged his backpack out of the locker, and took from it a purple sachet of lube, which Stiles recognized as the kind he used for class demonstrations. Then he slung the backpack back into the locker and strolled back, fortuitously unseen.

“That was risky as hell,” Stiles chided.

“True,” agreed Dr. Hale. “But compared to everything else I’ve done with you, definitely not the most risky.”

A silly grin grew on Stiles’ face. The admission made him realize that Dr. Hale really had gambled a lot for him. To save his grade, to take his virginity. He must have been at least a little special to Dr. Hale for him to do that, which made Stiles’ chest flutter. 

Before the lube was added, Stiles gave sucking the massive cock a good, ole college try. He expected to at least reach the halfway point, but when the tip probed his sensitive throat muscles and he opened his eyes, he saw he was still slobbering on the tip. And he didn’t dare swallow any more, unless his first time would consist of a ten second hand job _and_ projectile vomit. He spat it out – the latex condom tasted antiseptic anyway – and decided other parts of Dr. Hale were better targets. He licked up one hairy thigh, and then wrapped his lips around Dr. Hale’s testicles, which seemed to be his weak point.

“That’s good,” Dr. Hale admitted, trying and failing to keep his teacher-like composure. He groaned, deep and rough, almost sounding like an animal. Then he grabbed the back of Stiles’ head, and pressed him harder between his legs. But Stiles was running out of breath.

“Mmfmm,” he mumbled, mouth full. Dr. Hale released him. “I’m hard again,” Stiles announced.

Dr. Hale could see that Stiles didn’t want to suck on his testicles again; that was a challenge he just wasn’t yet experienced enough to commit to. He helped Stiles to his feet, then planted a bearded kiss on his lips, squeezing Stiles against him.

“We should probably get to the main course if we don’t want the class next period to discover us,” he said, which made Stiles feel like he’d been slowing them down with his fumbling.

“Uhm, sure,” he responded. He knew he wanted Dr. Hale to fuck him, but being a virgin, he didn’t know how to proceed. Awkwardly turning around to plant his hands on the slick, tiled wall, Stiles looked over his shoulder and asked, “Like this?”

Dr. Hale chuckled. “It should do.” Then he pressed himself against Stiles’ back, growling in Stiles’ ear while the rod that was his cock overfilled the space between Stiles’ ass cheeks.

“Holy fuck,” Stiles whimpered, eyes fluttering shut. He felt like he could stay this way forever, with Dr. Hale nipping at his ear lobes and rutting his cock against his ass. But he couldn’t, because he needed Dr. Hale _in_ his ass, a feeling which he could only anticipate with weak-kneed excitement since everything already felt so good.

Dr. Hale ripped open the purple lube sachet with his teeth, not failing like Stiles had with the condom. Then he squelched half the contents onto two fingers and smeared them around Stiles’ hole, which made him shiver and clench. He pushed them inside, which felt pretty uncomfortable for Stiles, but soon enough things were loosened and relaxed to the point that Dr. Hale decided it was fine to try entering. He smeared the remaining lube onto his shaft and aimed it against Stiles’ hole.

“Oh… kay,” Stiles said, taking calculated breaths. The cock was much bigger than Dr. Hale’s fingers. “OK. Wow. OK,” he kept saying.

“Everything all right?” asked Dr. Hale, lifting a dew-covered eyebrow.

 “Yeah. Just, wow,” admitted Stiles, painfully. Though he guessed “wow” sounded like a compliment, so he didn’t feel guilty for saying it.

Dr. Hale slipped a few inches of his massive cock into the hole before Stiles started to squirm like he was being pushpinned to the wall. “That’s good, that’s good,” he pleaded, telling Dr. Hale to stop. “How much is inside?” He looked over his shoulder to see, regretfully, that he was only slightly past the tip, just like with his failed blowjob.

“It’s OK,” comforted Dr. Hale. “I didn’t expect you to take the whole thing on your first try.” He rested his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing it a little, his rough finger pads on tensed muscles, making them relax. Then he slowly withdrew a few inches of cock, and pushed them back in.

Stiles grunted, breathy and without intending to. It was like Dr. Hale was operating his lungs with the head of his cock. Each movement out was an inhale, and each in was an exhale. Then Dr. Hale reached around to grab Stiles’ cock and stroke it in rhythm with the thrusts. Stiles would have came immediately if not for the pain he was in.

Stiles turned his head slightly, still grunting. “Can you… Can you…” he started, never able to finish the question because he was either grunting or snapping his mouth shut from embarrassment. He wanted to ask Dr. Hale to growl in his ear again. He liked that. But asking for it seemed ridiculous, and Stiles didn’t even know what to call it.

“Can I stop?” Dr. Hale filled in.

“No. Nothin’,” Stiles answered. Then he went back to grunting, his forehead against the cold tile.

Eventually Dr. Hale stopped stroking Stiles’ cock in favor of jerking off the leftover shaft of his own cock, the part that wouldn’t fit in Stiles’ body. He stroked it ferociously with double fists, obviously trying to make up for the friction he wasn’t getting from Stiles’ hole.  After a minute, Stiles reached back to help him out. Suddenly Dr. Hale roared and Stiles felt the enormous shaft tense up in his hand.

When Dr. Hale pulled out, Stiles felt wobbly and like his organs might drop through the giant hole that was surely gaping between his legs. He turned around to see a big, white tear drop drooping inside the condom, off the tip of Dr. Hale’s slowly softening cock. He slipped off the condom and knotted its end, as if he didn’t want the tear drop to escape.

“Uh,” Stiles began. “We kind of have some unfinished business.” He gestured to his own dick, still hard.

“I didn’t forget,” said Dr. Hale. He took a knee, looking very mischievous with a half-smirk. “In fact, I was looking forward to blowing you…”

He kissed the tip of Stiles’ cock, grabbed it, rubbed it against his beard, and then swallowed the whole length. Stiles stumbled back against the wall, his feet nearly slipping out from under him on the damp concrete. Now this he liked. This was what he wanted Dr. Hale fucking him to feel like. He gripped Dr. Hale’s water-spiked hair and pulled him down, though his nose was already pressed against Stiles’ pubes.

“I can’t believe my sex ed. teacher is sucking my dick,” he moaned.

Dr. Hale growled something in response, his deep voice rumbling around Stiles’ shaft. Then he slipped a finger between Stiles’ legs, into his ass, and that was all it took. One finger hitting the right spot. Now his sex. ed teacher was expertly swallowing his cum.

Stiles couldn’t see or hear anything until the cum completely emptied from his cock. When he finally looked down, blinking through the steam at Dr. Hale with stray bits of cum on his lips and beard, Stiles was sure he was in love. He wanted to tell Dr. Hale he needed him to stay in Beacon Hills, but when he opened his mouth, he started to giggle uncontrollably. Then he threw his arms around Dr. Hale’s wide shoulders and went limp, laughing and unable to stop himself.

“I’m guessing I did a good job?” Dr. Hale asked, patting Stiles’ back. With his free hand, he shut off the shower. Then he wrapped a towel around Stiles and carried him back to the lockers, where he sat him down and began to dress.

Stiles watched contentedly as Dr. Hale scrubbed himself dry with a second towel and  pulled on his underwear. God, he looked great in underwear. Then he threw on his button-up shirt, pulled up his slacks, and threaded his belt. God, he looked good in a shirt, pants and belt.

He tossed the knotted condom into his gym bag, rather than the trash bin only a few feet away. “Are you going to be OK here?” he asked. Then he nodded to the heap of clothes and backpack outside the shower stall. “Your stuff is over there,” he reminded.

“Yeah,” Stiles snorted. He reached for Dr. Hale’s shoulders and barely caught them, then pulled Dr. Hale in for a kiss that was way too short and chaste. “I’m gonna be OK.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Hale nodded stiffly. “See you later, Stiles.” He headed for the exit, glancing around as if someone was watching him. Then he pushed through the door and didn't look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took awhile to write this because school. It's a little sloppy, but yolo. >_>

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment and let me know what you think or what you'd like to see next! Not sure where I'm taking the story yet and reviews are greatly appreciated! Point out any typos as well!
> 
> Thanks for reading! ^^


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